


Things Best Forgotten

by Kalorii



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Death, Minor Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalorii/pseuds/Kalorii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that Aster is the last of the Pooka. He takes the time out to remember the events of that fateful day which made him who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Best Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this forever ago when someone had made a comic showing their version of the battle between Pitch Black and the Pooka. Something made me stop writing it and then I forgot about it until today when I was doing my laundry. So I finished it up and here's the finished product. Perhaps a bit different than I'd intended back then but I think it still turned out pretty okay.

Morning had been such a peaceful affair. The same talk around the table, a threat of a food fight from the youngest which was carried around until their mother had threatened to let them go hungry. Though they had plenty of food, wasting of it was largely frowned upon because what was wasted could be given to others whose crops didn't grow as well. The Warren was a place where no one went hungry and all had to respect that.

Everything seemed normal to E. Aster Bunnymund as he got suited up for his training session. He was quickly becoming quite proficient with boomerangs which pleased his father. Really, Aster had become a hodge podge of both of his parents but his mother was a good example of what he wanted to be. Once a fierce warrior, she was proof that one could be strong yet artistic, enjoying the finer things in life while protecting it with one's life.

"No matter what you want to be, always know that we're proud of you," his father would always say. Neither leaned their children to a certain path, allowing them to choose for themselves. Oh, there was the gentle nudge now and again to not be disrespectful to the relaxed rules. None of them would slack off and all of them would find a calling in the Warren to become what they needed to be.

In the end, it all boiled down to the fact that this was a normal day in the life of a Pooka. The youngest, twins, they would be working in the garden with mother today. For the second youngest, they would be attending their fourth session to choose which weapon they wanted to specialise in. And the eldest, Aster and his twin sister Poppy, they would be continuing their own weapon training. No idle paws today, everyone busy as they kept up their training.

Then the first screech split the air, suddenly choked off. Those close enough got to see the culprit and the peace was transformed to panic in a split second.

Feet thumped the ground, the vibrations carrying to every corner of the Warren. Some of them weren't intentional, just the natural vibration of running. No matter what the source was, the message was carried loud and clear, picked up by those who didn't even know what was going on.

Everything became obvious when the first wave of shadows rushed forward. Anger and confusion was what most felt that day. How could this have happened? They'd come to this planet, _created_ this planet for one reason: to escape from Pitch Black. Yet he was here with his army of nightmare men and fearlings, all of them cackling with mad glee at the feast that lay before them.

Once the confusion was pushed aside, the only thing that they thought of was survival. Weapons were picked up and handed out, the shadow army suddenly roaring in frustration. It was no wonder that the Nightmare King had sought them out, wanting to obliterate them. The Pookan warriors were formidable adversaries and possibly the one threat that stood between him and the Tsar and Tsarina. It seemed his thirst for destruction knew no bounds.

Chocolate found its way through the crowds of warriors, an amusing thing to say if you didn't know any better. Suddenly one warrior could become three and shadows were batted about like leaves in the wind. Kits and elders were slowly being ushered to a safer haven but Pitch's army didn't know honour. It was there that the slaughter began.

Aster found his way there, wanting to be helpful _somewhere_ if he couldn't be on the front lines. By the time he arrived then it was far too late. A sword sliced its way through the throat of an elder who had fought valiantly to her last breath to protect a herd of young kits. Before he could rush forward to take her place, several fearlings rushed forth to run the kits through with their weapons. Terrified squeals were cut off and then the shadows moved on.

Not one to remain idle and now feeling full of rage, Aster charged blindly forward. He ran straight into the back of a warrior who motioned to one side. Following the view, he saw his mother and father as well as his sister, all of them bearing six arms and six weapons which flashed swiftly around them. Though their losses were going to be great, it seemed as though they would win this fight yet.

Heartened by this thought, the young Pookan warrior rushed forward only to be halted by a sight which made his blood run colder than ice.

This war would be lost and the slaughter would end here. Fearlings overwhelmed them, for every six downed by one warrior, a dozen more took their place. They picked at the last defence line relentlessly and without any mercy.

Time slowed down as he watched his mother fall first, an enraged howl drawing his attention to his father who fell upon the fearlings responsible for his mate's death with a fury unmatched. Well, unmatched by all but other fearlings. Aster moved forward again, trying desperately to reach his sister and his father who were now being practically torn apart by the shadow creatures.

Everything became a blur then, Pookan warriors falling around him like branches being torn down. A fearling's sword found its way into his side and he let out a yelp of pain as he canted forward, only feeling more pain as he was buried beneath bodies of other warriors. All Aster could smell was blood and fear, hearing cries of anguish until things fell into a disturbing silence.

It was only then that Aster mercifully passed out.

He awoke again, feeling a sharp ache in his side as he tried to untangle himself from the bodies of his race. Green eyes looked on with horror as he saw the carnage, hearing nothing but the rustling of leaves and howling wind through ruined buildings.

There were no cries for help, no one else who stood up to challenge any nightmare men or fearlings that may have been left behind. There was nothing but silence.

Everything was gone. His parents, his siblings, he'd watched all of them die along with his extended family and those he called friend. The Warren which was once a beacon of life and joy was now a graveyard for its inhabitants. It was a harsh reality and he cursed himself for not being strong enough when it truly counted to prevent this. Guilt, anger and sorrow gnawed at him, burrowing into his heart and making him forget his own injury that he still needed to tend to.

E. Aster Bunnymund was now the last of his race.

\------

It had been a long time since Aster had recalled these things. It had taken at least several thousand years before he'd been comfortable enough to write it down anywhere. No one had been around then to watch the tears ruin his work over and over again as he relived the pain and horror of that dreadful day.

"Bunny?"

A gentle voice brought him out of his thoughts and he snapped the book closed. Bunny had written it again but in a language that could be understood by someone who wasn't himself. That wasn't the only thing he'd written but it was the final chapter in the book he'd written celebrating the life of a race that was nearly extinguished.

"It's nothin', mate," he said, nodding as he took the book in his hands and then held it out for Jack Frost to take.

Finding out that the young Guardian could read was a surprise. A pleasant one but also one that had confused the Pooka for a short while. Jack was known for his pranks, his love of having fun and darting everywhere he could like an excited child. Knowing that he would actually sit to read for extended periods of time flew in the face of everything Bunny thought he'd known about the winter spirit.

Nodding toward the book when Jack hesitated, he offered a small smile. "Been a long time but I think ya can learn about who I am now. Might be a bit borin' for ya if you're not into these things."

Jack took the book in his hands, treating it as though it were a treasure. He'd been with the Guardians now for nearly a hundred years and, though he knew that Aster called himself a "Pooka", he had yet to find out what that truly meant.

"Thanks. I'll bring it back when I can," he said.

Bunny shook his head lightly with a soft smile. "No need, frostbite. Book's yours if ya feel like keepin' it. I've got all of it up here in my old noggin if I ever feel like rememberin' it."

As one could expect, the last chapter was one he would rather forget.


End file.
